Tempus Fugit
by Millennialice
Summary: They had all made sacrifices, to get them to where they were now. Major Toy Story 3 Spoilers.
1. Sacrifices

A/N: This is incredibly long, maudlin, and dripping with angst. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

I think the power of Pixar to make me possibly cry is pathetic. It's practically Pavlovian at this point.

Sacrifices

They had all made sacrifices, to get them to where they were now.

The first had been Etch, and it had been so sudden, so quick, that there was nothing anyone could have done. That was what Woody told himself, over and over again.

Andy was twelve, coming in after a sports game, flushed with victory. The trophy in his hand was pumped up in down in the air as he slammed the door and started across the room, heedless of the toys scattered on the floor. His cry of "We won! We won!" was cut short by crunch that followed his first step.

Andy lifted his foot and looked down at the broken Etch-a-Sketch. His smile had faded. Confusion filled his face and was quickly moving to regret as he bent to pick up the plastic fragments of what had once been the screen. He tried to put them back into place, tried to spin the knobs, but there was no fixing the toy.

The others watched in horror and in grief, frozen in position, as Andy collected all the pieces, piled it on top of what was left of Etch, and left for the kitchen trash. These things happened, they knew. They accepted it and moved on, but no matter what, the room always seemed quieter after that, without the shaking beat that had accompanied Etch's every step.

* * *

Bo was next, and may have been the worse.

Yard sales had come, been thwarted, and gone, and another one was upon them. The army men were in position with the walkie talkie, and they had gathered in Andy's room to hear this year's plans. A little tuning, and the voices came through:

"Molly, there's a box over there of your stuff, why don't you look through it and make sure nothing you want is in there."

Molly, who was not eager to give up some of her toys, protested.

"…and the Sheppard girl and the sheep? When was the last time you played with them?"

"Maybe you should ask _Andy_. He always played with her more than I did."

Andy, who was fifteen and couldn't be bothered at that moment, mumbled something about "the perfect hostage situations" before his heavy footsteps indicated he'd left the room. And with that Bo Peep had been put on the yard sale list.

Woody wasn't worried then. Lawn rescues were an occasional occurrence, and this time they had fair warning.

"Now, try to stay at the top of the box, that way you'll be put on the table near the garage," he explained to her as Buzz made sure everyone accounted for their accessories and took role. "If you can do that, Buster _should_ cooperate with the doors, and I think we can have you back here in maybe, five minutes after the yard sale starts."

Mrs. Potato Head was trying to sort which of the LGM's was number 1,2, and 3, while Ham was pretty sure he was missing seventeen cents somewhere. Bo Peep gave a sad smile. Her bleating sheep had formed a circle around her.

"And where am I going to stay?" she asked. "I can't just show up in some corner of Andy's room, can I?"

"Sure you can," Woody answered, confused. "You used to, all the time."

"Oh, Woody," Bo said calmly. "_I'm _not one of Andy's toys." She lifted her small, unmarked foot to prove the point. Then she wrapped her hand around Woody's arm like she had many times before. "I don't…want you to come out to the yard sale today."

"What?" Woody went to move away, but her grasp tightened.

"Molly doesn't need me. And I can't hide away in Andy's room." She spoke to his Sheriff badge. "There just isn't a place for me anymore."

"Sure there is," he could think of them now: the attic, under the bed, with him in the bottom of the toy chest. He moved closer to her and put his other hand on her shoulder. "Look, we stick together, we _don't_ just give up."

Bo finally looked him in the eye and said, "This time, I think we have to."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Everyone else gathered themselves together, Buzz counted Woody, made his last check and they piled into the toy chest again, the lid closing behind them. Woody stayed where he was, with Bo's hand wrapped around his arm and looked at her. He didn't know what else to say, and, anyway, didn't have the time to say it.

Bo added one last thing. "Promise me I won't see you out there."

He didn't say anything. The feet were almost at the door. He looked at her and knew they should have been getting in position, but he couldn't bring himself to end that moment until he absolutely had to.

* * *

Andy walks in with a half filled box and sees toys lying on floor. He scoops up the sheep, disentangles the Sheppard toy from his Sheriff doll, puts them in the box, and mutters, "Don't get mad at me about playing with _your _stuff, Molly." Then he puts Woody back in the toy chest and heads downstairs.

* * *

Woody didn't go down. He kept the promise he had never made, but sent Buzz instead, just to make sure she didn't change her mind, or get thrown out on accident. He waited all day, and maybe, just maybe he was hoping she wouldn't get sold. That she'd have to come back.

At the end of the day the toy chest opened and Buzz climbed in. He didn't say anything, just laid a Sheppard staff down beside him, put his hand on his shoulder, and left him alone. He'd learn later that it got separated from her during the bustle of the sale. That she was sold without it, but with all of her sheep. At least there was that. It would get thrown out during the next spring cleaning. He never saw her again.

* * *

They spent a lot of time in the toy chest, and some days, he was almost glad for it. Almost, because he still wanted Andy, wanted his time, wanted his attention. And he couldn't not want him because, however much he felt for Bo Peep, he loved Andy just that much more_._ So he waited. They all did.

* * *

They knew things would be more dangerous when Andy started driving. But when Buster came into Andy's room, whining and whimpering like the puppy he wasn't anymore, and carrying a squashed piece of plastic, they were still shocked.

What had once been Wheezy the Penguin had been rolled flat with a tire tread over his back. When Buster gave it a sad nudge, as if asking them to fix it, something like a squeak still sounded.

There was nothing for Woody to do but crawl back into the toy chest and wait for someone to discover what the dog had drug in. He still doesn't know how Wheezy got out there to begin with, or what he was doing behind the car. They'll probably never know.

* * *

Time went by, and they lost others too, but still managed to stay all together more often than not. He kept morale high, and they found other things besides Andy to occupy their increasing spare time. But he was always in the background, and they all really knew that all they were waiting for was for Andy, for one more time, for one last game.

It got hard sometimes, the waiting, but the Sergeant put it best when he said: "This is war, Sheriff. We're fighting the clock, and we can't win. We can only stretch it out; sacrifice what we have to and make the most of it, until our mission is accomplished."

* * *

In the end, it's Andy who makes the last sacrifice. His life is hardly done, and far from over. He's heading off into a big unknown with some hard, challenging, formative years ahead of him.

He's always had Woody with him, no matter what. He likes the idea of his other toys waiting for him at home, like nothing has really changed. Because it feels like everything is changing. He knows he's not done with needing them. He wonders if he ever really will be.

But when he had taken them out of the toy chest to put them in storage, they had seemed so…unused. Almost neglected. He had felt guilty for a moment, before reminding himself that he had had other things to do now besides playtime. Still, when he reads the Post-It note, he makes a decision. Not because it was what was best for him, but because he knew it was what was best for _them_. He still needs them. And they need this.

He says his goodbyes and drives his car. He meets a little girl and introduces her to some of the most important people in his young life. For an amazing, all too short, time he succumbs again to the fantasy as they act out their every creative impulse. It feels so freeing, so _right,_ and he relishes each second.

When it's over, and he really does have to go, he helps her arrange them – his toys and hers – on the steps around her. He drags out the moment until he is standing at his car. He watches as she has Woody wave goodbye, and almost walks over and takes them all back. Almost.

He has never felt as old or as young as he does as he gets in that car and tells himself it's not _really_ goodbye. He'll be home for the holidays, and they will only be a hundred feet away. He'll be sure to visit. If he has time.

Driving away is hard. He wants Woody. He wants them all. He doesn't know if he can do this. He doesn't know if he can do this without them, but he has to try. It gets easier the farther away he is, and soon he can focus on his evening ahead, and remembers he should call his mom to let her know when he arrives in one piece.

It's a few months until his first break, and he already knows he's expected at home. He'll have to try to get around the corner for a visit. Really try.

Until then, he can wait.

* * *

A/N: This was written and edited in the middle of the night. I'm sorry for any horrible errors. If you see any, please let me know in a review.


	2. Recovery

A/N: This is pretty much fluff. Again, sorry.

* * *

He does go back. Once. On his first break, one afternoon he ends up at the front door of the house around the corner.

It's awkward at first, him essentially asking for a play date, but two minutes later he's in a preschooler's bedroom, frantically acting out Dolly and Dr. Porkchop's fiendish scheme, while the heroic space-western duo thwart them at every move.

It's fun. Bonnie can write her name now, and she teases him about the backwards 'N' on Woody's foot. She points out all the correct ones in the signatures on the pictures on her wall, while he admires them. And in between building bridges and knocking them down, he finds the time to silently tell Woody, and Buzz, and everyone what had happened with him in the last few months.

He tells them about his new room, and his classes. He talks about a teacher he hates, and debates whether to change his major. He mentions the gorgeous girl who sat two rows in front of him, and decides not to.

He talks about friends who are only two doors down the hall, and all night study sessions. He makes exploding sounds as they topple a LEGO tower, and admits that sometimes he finds himself, for the first time, lonely. And that those are the times he misses them.

They listen eagerly to everything he says. He never speaks a word of it out loud, but he knows they hear him anyway, and they understand, like they always did. When its time to go, he helps Bonnie put away her toys, assuring each one of them that he _is _doing well. That it looks like they are too. And that he's happy.

* * *

The next time he's way too busy, what with work, keeping in touch with friends and catching up with family. Molly has gotten so much taller, and so much older than he thinks should be possible. It hardly crosses his mind until its time to leave again and then it's too late.

He sees Bonnie from time to time, in the grocery store, or at neighborhood functions when he's visiting in town. She smiles and waves at the boy whose name is written on some of her toys. Later on, he gets a few short conversations out of her, but it's never anything like the excited, fanciful shrieks laced with sound effects of those first few hours.

He graduates from college, and starts a career. He gets married. Molly starts college, and then graduates too. His mom starts talking of selling the house. He has a daughter, and then a son.

* * *

It's Christmastime at his mother's house. His daughter is watching a new movie while his son works to master his new talent of crawling. Molly is sitting on the couch with her fiancé, her new ring sparkling on her left hand, and there's a knock at the door.

A teenage girl is standing there, her dark hair pulled in a ponytail over her shoulder. She's holding a box, gift wrapped and topped with a large bow. She smiles when she sees him.

"Andy, right?" she asks. "Hi, I'm Bonnie."

He knows who she is, and invites her in, but she hesitates in the doorframe. She grips the box a little tighter and steps inside.

"I'm leaving in a few weeks…early admission to university. Anyway, I heard kids in the backyard today...and I wanted… Here." She extends the box to him.

He takes it and unwraps it. Even though he had expected what was inside, he still has to set it down. He removes the top object out and holds it for a moment, then pulls the string on the back.

_There's a snake in my boot!_

Every head in the room turns toward the sound. Molly lets out an "Oh my god." His daughter makes her way to the box on the floor and exclaims "Toys!"

Bonnie takes her cue, and in a few moments, the two of them have the box's contents lined up on the carpet. They're some his toys, and some hers, some he didn't recognize – he doesn't think he ever had a raptor dinosaur, and some may be missing but he can't tell for sure. How many of those Pizza Planet aliens had he owned, anyway?

Jessie is propped against Bullseye and surrounded by a herd of small stuffed animals and fish. Bonnie is explaining to his daughter how Buzz Lightyear is specially equipped to help foil Dr. Porkchop and Dolly: the most dastardly combination of wealth and magic the world has ever seen. Molly is searching inside Mr. Potato Head, saying she clearly remembered Mrs. Potato Head having a purse.

Andy starts setting up tracks for the runaway train. The game turns into an aerial chase, and he sets the train aside and to form paper airplanes from the gift wrap. His mother has finally located the video camera and is trying to film everything at once.

With the appearance of the camera, the play comes to a halt. His daughter rushes toward the camera, waving and yelling, "Hi! Hi!" Bonnie decides it's time to go, and slowly starts making her way to the door. Twice she glances back at the toys she's leaving in the mess of a living room.

He understands that this is hard for her, so he doesn't ask if she's sure. He merely tells her thank you, and makes sure his daughter says the same. He also invites her over, any time. Then Bonnie is gone.

He sits back down on the floor, and watches as the play resumes. He is still holding Woody, for the first time in over a decade. A few scratches now run along the top of his head, so he searches in the discarded box, and then settles a brown cowboy hat on Woody's head. Good as new. Better.

Hands on his knee make him turn to see his son, who had crawled over. He focuses intently on the doll for a moment, and then stretches out a finger to touch the shiny sheriff badge. A particularly loud sound effect on the other side of the room captures his attention, and he sets off to investigate.

His daughter has Buzz and Jessie cornered by Dolly and her minions. One of Buzz's wings doesn't light anymore. Andy glances at the lit Christmas tree. He'll have to fix that.

"Here," he says, sitting forward, "Woody can save the day."

His daughter gives him a look, "No," she replies turning around. She retrieves something behind her back. "My _dinosaur _will!"

So Andy and Woody sit back and watch as Rex, leaping and roaring, is the hero. He looks back down at the sheriff, and even though he knows it's only his own pulse in his fingertips, it feels to him like the doll has a beating heart. It doesn't surprise him. He's always known Woody had a heart.

* * *

Woody watched as the others were played with, once again. He didn't mind being left out at all, tonight he preferred it. He had been old enough to be put in a museum decades ago, but didn't really remember anything before Andy. Nothing mattered before Andy. And tonight, he was going home, with Andy. Everyone was going home with Andy. His Andy. And his kids.

He didn't know how long this would last, but he was willing to enjoy the ride, at least one more time.

* * *

AN: Let me know what you thought!


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